D&D Way to Sword Coast

Chapter 22: Lair

"Ah, we have guests!"

Alidorim's weapons were up in an instant, and Lesmythe stood just behind him, knife drawn. Yulia did her best to remain as small as possible. Casting their gaze about the adults tried to determine the direction the voice had come. Their eyes settled on a small farmhouse near the edge of the village.

At first glance, it appeared to be just another empty home. However, all the doors were shut, and windows shuttered. They couldn't see inside but sure enough, someone could see them.

"I dare say, is that a Strixiki?" a second voice said. Alidorim's ears quirked at the draconic word for Dragonborn.

"I do believe it is," the first voice said excitedly, "How fortuitous." At that moment three men exited the farmhouse, arms not quite raised but showing they had no weapons. Olkith refused to lower his. They wore all black with cloaks cut to resemble wings and leather masks with stylized horns. "Greetings strangers," the lead man said. His white hair and pale lower jaw were the only features he could see. "I'm Favric. What brings you to Thundertree?"

Though they weren't attacking everything about the men screamed wickedness. Their hands were empty, but their robes could easily conceal many types of weapons. Then there was their use of draconic. Not since the dark days of his people had they been called Strixiki.

"Collecting herbs," Alidorim stated fixing the men with a hard glare hoping to dissuade any foolish action. If Favric hoped to learn their identity, he would be left wanting.

One of the other men scoffed. "Just like the last group," he murmured.

"Last group?" Alidorim asked sounding mildly curious and confused, "There are others out here?" He managed to sound calm despite the twisting sensation in his gut. Like his name he couldn't give the men any information to use against them.

Favric sighed disappointedly. "Indeed," gesturing grandly he said, "But the Great Green One demanded them as a tribute."

"Great...Green One?" Lesmythe mumbled gripping her long-knife tighter. The word 'Tribute' did not sit well with Alidorim. Whoever this 'Green One' was the men appeared infatuated with him. He hadn't pegged the men as common bandits based on their garb, but he was starting to wish they were.

"Father something...feel wrong," Yulia whimpered clutching at Lesmythe's leg.

"They have a Tiefling," another voice called out from his left. Shocked Alidorim repositioned himself to shield the child. He saw a fourth man in black pull away from the shadows of a building. A glance over his shoulder revealed another pair blocking the way they'd come. He sensed no magic, meaning these men were highly skilled in stealth.

"A member of the cursed race?" Favric said cheerfully as if a gift had landed in his lap. "Oh, this will surely please the Great One." Smiling he held his arms out to the Dragonborn. "You who wear the same visage as the Great Green One, will be honored most of all."

'...Same...visage...?' He swore under his breath. If he resembled this Green One then that could only mean these men were followers of another Dragonborn, or possibly even a Dragonkin. The horned masks and wing-shaped cloaks suddenly made more sense. These men weren't bandits. They were dragon cultists.

Damn! Alidorim could handle three, but six attacking from all sides were long odds. A fighting retreat would only get them surrounded again, if not picked off. Surrender was certainly not an option either. It was already bad enough, but their fascination with him and Yulia sent a chill up his spine.

Thinking quickly, he came up with a more viable strategy. He just needed to buy time until they found an opportunity to escape or turn the tables on the men. The cultists were expecting them to resist so...

Both Yulia and Lesmythe squeaked in surprise as he sheathed his weapons. "We would be honored to meet the Great Green One," he declared. The cultists were outwardly shocked, but Favric looked immensely pleased. The girls started to argue. He silenced them with a warning glare. Looking at Yulia he said in a low tone, "Stay close to Lesmythe." He made sure to speak in Infernal so only they could understand. "Run when I say."

Lesmythe had picked up enough of the language to get the gist of what he was suggesting. Bowing a bit more than usual she said in common, "As you say, Master." Fear quivered within her eyes but there was also a reluctant trust.

Turning back to Favric, Alidorim gestured for him to lead the way. The Cultist was all too eager to do so. The man was either extremely gullible or very confident in his group's skills. If they took down a group of silver ranks then they weren't slouches. Whoever this Green One was, gave Favric a sense of security. He didn't mind showing his back to the group or disarming them. He and two of his men took the lead. Gritting his teeth, Alidorim followed while the other three brought up the rear effectively blocking any escape. They headed in the direction of the hill.

At the top of the hill stood a round tower with a cottage attached. Both were in good condition, although the tower roof was gone. A single door leads into the cottage, but several arrow slits stared down from the face of the tower.

The same eerie quiet they'd encountered in the village was much heavier as if nature itself dared not whisper. An acrid stench filled the air. The corpses of two hideous giant spiders sprawled near the edge of the pathway. Their puckered and blistered bodies looked as if they'd been mauled by a large animal. The sight made Alidorim falter a step. His hackles rose as his muscles tensed, but he continued to follow the cultists. Yulia was whimpering again, while Lesmythe did her best to keep her calm.

Two of the cultists remained outside while Favric lead the rest inside. Other than dusty furniture the cottage was remarkably bare. The tower was another story entirely. A single room with a 40ft high ceiling, and a wide staircase circling the interior. Sunlight filtered through a massive open hole in the ceiling.

"Step no closer!" commanded a deep hissing voice from somewhere in the shadows. The entire group obeyed. "Who dares to enter my lair?" Alidorim clenched his hands to keep from shaking. The voice carried such a heavy presence his knees nearly buckled.

Favric bent at the waist. "My Lord, I come once again to treat with you."

There was a massive hiss followed by a deep throaty growl. "Words are useless without a tribute to give them weight." Favric cleared his throat nervously before nodding to one of his men. The cultist hesitated before walking out into the middle of the room. From his robes, he produced a small coffer. Setting it down the man beat a hasty retreat.

"Oh Gods," Lesmythe gasped and Alidorim felt the color leave his face. From the shadows appeared a massive four-fingered hand. Sunlight glinted off of dark green scales but failed to reflect off of its black claws. The reptilian digits disappeared back into the darkness along with the chest.

There was the sound of a satisfied sigh that hissed like ocean spray. "So much better than your last tribute Favric," the voice chuckled deeply, "They barely constituted a snack." Alidorim gulped. At least the fate of the missing assistant appeared to be solved.

Dread anticipation filled him as he heard a great fleshy mass slither across the ground displacing wood and stone. Like a curtain, the shadows parted revealing a large serpentine body supported by four muscular legs and enveloped by huge leathery wings. Yellow eyes stared down the length of its snout with a heartless malevolence that only a predator could invoke.

Alidorim had been so very wrong and his assumption may get them all killed.

The green dragon expanded its wings declaring, "What words do you bring the great Venomfang!"